Lightning Crashes
by NakeBenihime
Summary: What if Vergil had spoken in Devil May Cry 1? This story explores the more emotional conflict between Dante & Vergil in Dante's first meeting with his twin brother after believing him dead for two decades. One shot.


_**Lightning Crashes**_

**Author's Note:** This is a a sort of rewrite of the last scene with Dante and Nelo Angelo in _Devil May Cry 1_. . .

* * *

"Well...If it isn't my new buddy with 'the guts'," said Dante, smirking at the dark, brooding figure who suddenly appeared behind him near the bay windows. "You just keep coming back for more. I'm beginning to think you got nothing better to do around this dingy, old castle."

"What I need to do is defeat you without fail," said the demon, his eyes glowing in the dim light of the spacious room. He flipped his cape behind him, yanking out his over-sized sword from his left hip, the points of his two horns growing out of the sides of his head aiming directly at Dante. "If I lose to you, I would disgrace my master and myself beyond what you could ever imagine."

"Bring it on, Nelo! I like a man with guts _and_ honor!" Dante's smirk grew wider as he spoke. "But, I've been thinking about this: what's truly disgraceful is that a guy like you serves Mundus at all. Don't you know better than that?"

"Might makes right," he shot back. "Besides, I don't need to be lectured by the likes of you, _Dante."_ Dante crinkled his brow, raising one higher than the other. He could have sworn he'd heard this phrase before from someone very familiar to him.

"What did you just say?" he asked, walking closer, sticking his right ear out towards Nelo.

"Couldn't hear me, eh? Perhaps, you'll hear me better if I remove my mask..."

Nelo stuck the tip of his weapon into the floor and crossed his arms over the space at the top of his head. A violent blue energy flooded out from his being in all directions, slamming into Dante, causing him to block it with his arms and hands. The demon wailed to the ceiling, the blue energy surging all around him as if he were being consumed by the flames of a fire. He dropped to his knees, and the energy receded. Slowly, he rose back upon his feet, his purple cape waving and flapping behind him. As he raised his now bare head to glare at Dante, his red eyes glowed like hell-fire, as he revealed his true guise.

Dante flinched to see the man's short white hair, pulled back away from his face, and his light blue skin with dark blue veins running the length of his face from his forehead to his jawline. Besides macabre, he was the very expression of stoicism, a virtue not lost on Dante, as this feature made the man instantly recognizable to him. Dante narrowed his gaze, nodding at him, deliberately gesturing that he comprehended who he was, perfectly.

"_Vergil..."_ said Dante, under his breath. "I'd know that look on your face anywhere. You could only be him."

"You've got that right, little brother." He pulled out his sword from the ground, gesturing widely, signaling the commencement of their fight.

"And, why does Mundus need _you_ to defeat me?" asked Dante, having yet to grab the handle of Alastor poking up above the back of his shoulder. "Some kind of test of worthiness?"

"As if I would ever let some pesky feeling of familial love interfere with my duties as a Knight of Mundus, the Demon Emperor," he said, as straight-faced as ever, pointing the thumb of his free hand into his chest.

"'Typical Vergil'—of course not!" chuckled Dante. "How could _you_ ever let something like that happen?"

"Well, if I were to let emotions dictate my actions, Mundus would never accept me as his greatest warrior. Because our father, Sparda, betrayed him once, _I_ am under more scrutiny than the other demon Knights. I _have_ to prove myself worthy to be my master's most elite!"

Vergil charged, slashing at Dante with all his might, but his sword met the large, wide, silvery blade of Alastor before it could make contact with Dante's body. They grappled, pushing their swords up against each other as they balanced themselves on their respective spread-out, legs.

"How could you let something like this happen to you, _Vergil?"_ asked Dante, gasping and panting. "Serve Mundus? You changed your name and your face for _that_ scum?"

"You could not possibly comprehend it," said Vergil, giving Dante a close-up view of his changed form, and nearly making him sick to his stomach. "The man you once knew as 'Vergil' no longer exists. I have shrugged off that cumbersome coil known as 'humanity' for this demon body, to become 'Nelo Angelo,' the Black Angel. Now, my ascension to great power is nearly complete!"

"Is that right, _Vergil?" _Dante taunted him, as the two of them continued to grapple and grunt and pant against each others' immense strength. "Help me understand something! I'm just really at a loss here. I mean, I get that you've always wanted more power like you could never get enough of it, and, maybe this Mundus guy _could_ give it to you, but..."

"But, what, Dante?" asked Vergil, turning his head in annoyance of his little brother's old tendency to trail-off in the middle of his sentences. "You know I have little patience for your half-witted remarks."

"—But, he killed our mother, _Vergil!" _spat Dante, as he pushed Vergil back with his sword, sending him skidding on his feet across the floor.

"_Dante!" _yelled Vergil, as a look of panic began to encroach upon him.

"Have you forgotten that one _little_ detail?" Dante shouted at him, as they stood a few feet apart. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be trying to open _your_ eyes to the truth of _your_ own mistakes! I only hope for your sake that your master suppressed those old memories, because I can't see how you could _ever_ side with Mom's killer. It's _un-think-able!"_

"_Dante..."_ muttered Vergil, struggling to speak, as he seemed hunched over in pain, grabbing at his stomach region. He began to screech and wail, his voice echoing off the marble walls, as the blue energy began to spew out of him, uncontrollably. He seemed to be affected by the flames as they appeared to be truly consuming him this time. His gnashing and thrashing around only made the blue lightning energy stronger, and it caused him to levitate above the ground from where he had been standing.

Dante watched, trying to block out the excess light with his hands over his eyes, as Vergil hovered above him at the ceiling in the high-vaulted room. A torrent of blue light flooded out from his core just as the rush of waves break upon the bow of a ship lost on a stormy sea. He hollered out in agony, repeating _"No! No!"_ over and over again.

"—_Mo...Mother...!" _he stammered, holding his head in his trembling hands.

And, in a flash of white light bursting from his center, he exploded into a large ball of blue-white brilliance, as it hastily illuminated the entire dingy hall. Quickly, it dissipated into thin air. A stray spark trickled down to his brother, watching the entire scene in horror, as a bright red amulet plummeted from the ceiling, thudding onto the floor.

"_Vergil!"_ he shouted up at the empty space. Not a trace of him, nor the blue energy remained anywhere. Dante ran to the amulet on the floor. Lightning from outside the castle windows flashed every few seconds in the dim light. Lifting it into the palm of his gloved hand, the gold plating glimmering in what little light remained, he squeezed it tightly with his fingers, synchronizing them with his knitted eyebrows.

"No, Vergil..." he said, his low voice escaping him. He turned the amulet over to the back, which had the name "Vergil" engraved into it. Turning it back over, he touched the large red jewel to his forehead, recalling the day, several years earlier, when their mother gave him and his twin brother the two identical parts of the Perfect Amulet as childhood gifts:

_Vergil, Dante...Happy birthday..._

_Wow! Cool! I want chocolate!_

—_No, I want the chocolate! You can't take... _

He blew out a short gust of breath from his pursed lips. The part of his white, feathery hair covering his left eye flapped in response. He could feel his head begin to clear, slightly. "I guess, this time," he said aloud, slinging the amulet over his head, onto his neck, "you're gone for good, _big brother..."_

He stood up from the floor, stashing his previously acquired weapon, Alastor, over his shoulder at the usual place he carried his swords. He rubbed the amulet with his fingers, as it hung from his neck. Then, he moved those same fingers up to a small stream of tears trickling down his lonely cheek, wiping them away, as he strode out of the hall...

* * *

Sources: _Devil May Cry_ (video game); _Devil May Cry, Book 3: Angel With Scabbed Wings_ (American Comic)


End file.
